You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? she begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.”
Robert contemplates briefly before responding, "I hail from the Duchy of Adria, my name is Robert Cavey. My father was a diligent, yet poor leatherworker and as such, I spent much time gathering dung for curing the skins. Yet now that I have come of age, that is to say, one year from a full score, I decided to set off into the world and make my own living. In truth, I am hoping for some employment in the services of the Eulers', who are fortunately not too great of a journey from my hometown." Meanwhile, Robert has been pacing around recalling memories both fond and unpleasant. When he stops suddenly, and turns back to the hag, "Well madam, thank you for lending your ear, yet now I must depart. The Euler establishment cannot be too far distant."
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